Resonance
by Aqua Lion
Summary: Getting over Larmina isn't as easy as just deciding to avoid her. Pidge is convinced it's for the best, except for the times when he isn't convinced at all. And that's getting to be most times... Harmonics part 2.


**Resonance**

_So the original premise of Dissonance was supposed to be Pidge dealing with Larmina's unrequited love for his alter-ego. Obviously, that 'unrequited' thing went out the window around the first paragraph. The rest of the premise didn't last much longer. And then things just got weird.  
><em>_Hence this.  
><em>_Sequel to Dissonance, set in VF after Brains._

* * *

><p>She piloted Green Lion on Balto. I'm acutely aware of this fact.<p>

I sink back in the seat, trying to tell myself this is ridiculous. It's over. It's impossible. Let her go! Let her find love with someone who actually exists.

Gods know I've tried.

It was going so well. Avoiding her, at least outside of combat. Hiding in the hangar, behind Hunk, behind the lions, behind anything I could find. And then... she piloted Green Lion.

I keep waiting for her presence to fade, and it keeps stubbornly refusing to do so.

It's going to drive me crazy!

So I bury my face in the seat padding, again, because for now it still smells like her. Like citrus soap and hair conditioner and a hint of dust and sweat. The scent surely can't remain much longer. Sometimes I wonder if I'm already imagining it.

What do I smell like? I don't even know. Rust and oil, mostly, I'd guess. You never notice that sort of thing about yourself.

I don't remember her hair smelling like anything before. I remember how it _felt_, like tangled silk flowing through my fingers, but not how it smelled. Interesting. Admittedly I was a little preoccupied. It shouldn't shock me to have missed some things.

But I miss nothing when I look at her now. Nothing but her eyes... I can't make eye contact with her.

I'm afraid of what I would do.

But I remember her locking that gaze on me, pale and shining as sea foam. Beautiful. Everything about her is beautiful... the more I try to convince myself to forget about it, the more exquisite she seems to become.

Exquisite? Really, Pidge? But I'm running out of adjectives. There aren't any that do her justice anyway.

Hunk keeps asking me what's wrong. I could tell him, he would listen. He wouldn't judge me, and he would try to understand. But I don't want him to understand. He's...

This sounds silly, but I can't help it. He's too _innocent_.

I could start. Tell him the basics. I have a crush on Larmina, that's one thing. I'm secretly DJ Prong and that's the only reason she likes me, that's another... and that'll go just great_, _by the way. But I could say it.

I want to pin Larmina to a wall somewhere and kiss her until neither of us can breathe, that's something totally different.

Yeah.

If Allura knew about any of this, I have no doubt she'd kill me. Maybe I should just go admit everything to her. That would do away with all these lingering threads of desire. But for now, I think mortal injury might be a bit extreme to solve this problem... just a bit.

I do need help... but there's no one to go to.

Although I guess there's one person who might have some thoughts... well, he _has_ thoughts on everything, but they might actually be applicable here.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to regret this.

I'm pretty sure I'm too desperate to care.

* * *

><p><em>Lance, can we talk?<em>

_You look like hell, Pidge._

_And you look like you haven't slept in a week. Perpetually._

_Ouch, you're in a lovely mood. Remember how you're asking me a favor?_

_I'm on the edge of a meltdown, don't take it personally._

_Can't really turn that down. What's on your mind?_

_Girls. Love. Maybe sex._

_I... didn't know any of those were in your vocabulary._

_Yeah. That would be the problem._

* * *

><p>There's a tube of raspberry lip balm in my room.<p>

No, I didn't steal it from her. I _found_ it. It's not stealing if she just left it lying around and I picked it up, right? I keep thinking I'll give it back to her soon.

Sooner or later.

Perhaps mostly later.

For now I run my fingers over the waxy substance. Remembering. Imagining. Licking it off my fingertips, just enough to taste. Of course it's not the same... such a pale shadow of something truly magnificent.

I'm pretty sure this is creepy. I'm pretty sure it should bother me.

All that bothers me is that it sends electric shocks over my skin, and I want her more desperately than ever.

At the slightest sound from outside I hide my treasure. There's no way to explain this. It's ridiculous. So I make the tube disappear, and though my door does not actually open, I do not retrieve it.

Keep it hidden. Save it. Savor that brief taste, make it last as long as possible. Remember that brief time when you could pretend it was you she was seeing... or that it just didn't matter. That the lie was good enough.

Damn you, DJ Prong. I know, you're my own fault. But damn you anyway!

Stereolactic has a motto. Some idealistic mantra that I think I used to believe in.

War is waste. Peace is progress. The future is now...

It's no help to me when the war comes from within. Small comfort when the only future I can see is this conflict going on until it rips my heart from my chest.

Melodramatic? Yeah, probably. If I look at it from the outside, definitely.

But applying such disinterest to this is getting harder every second.

My music has gotten a bit grim. Like my mood. If anything it's become more popular, and I think that annoys me. Though I'm not sure how many people even notice... how the chords become more violent, the notes stab out like freshly sharpened blades.

When I'm writing it I feel every one of those blades. Because I know she's going to hear it, and I still don't know if she understands.

But what really frightens me is that she _does_ understand. That she understands and she's ignoring it, because the harder I try to hide, the more intent she seems to be on seeking me out.

Why?

_Why_, Larmina?

Why do you have to make this so difficult? Stop tempting me. I'm not that strong.

But I can't blame her, not really. I can only blame myself.

Blame... doesn't solve anything. Doesn't change anything. I can scream in my mind for as long as I want, but eventually I have to deal with this mess I've created.

I can't hide much longer, but I can't see a way out either. So I just keep writing... waiting for her to listen. Waiting for the music to finally get through.

* * *

><p><em>I could wear that mask forever, but it isn't fair to her...<em>

_Faceless nonentities actually aren't all that sexy._

_What's that supposed to mean?_

_Are you so sure it's the mask she's fallen for?_

_Of course it is. It has to be._

_Denial doesn't suit you, dude._

_I'm not in denial!_

_Then let's say she really is in love with the mask. Who made the mask?_

_I did, but..._

_And you still don't think she might see something in you?_

* * *

><p>Every time I look back, I lock onto that flare of passion.<p>

Not the one I avoided, but the one I succumbed to. When the floodgates opened and I kissed her so savagely it ached... I always thought the heat of the moment was just a metaphor. Never imagined such a conflagration could really erupt inside my veins.

She didn't seem to mind. I'd think she would have hit me if she did.

I hope so, anyway.

Would she do that? Did I take advantage of someone as desperate as I was? No. She _has_ to be stronger than that. She has to be... her strength is part of why I've fallen so hard.

Still. What I did...

Maybe it's not about her.

I don't know where that ferocity came from, and it's terrifying. Have I been more alone than I thought? Am I just starved for such contact, making up for lost time? Or is this who I am... a beast more primal and far less noble than the lion I'm bound to.

The answer is so clear if I let myself acknowledge the truth. Because I wouldn't have stopped if she'd fought it. I wanted her too badly.

I want to say I couldn't stand to harm her, but I think I _wanted_ her to fight. If she fought I could fight back. If she fought... I could go further.

I really need to stop thinking like that.

Who decides how someone acts when they're in love? Is this all some god playing a sick joke? I always imagined I would be so gentle. So chivalrous. Maybe because I thought I was shy... thought I would hesitate faced with something I didn't understand.

There was no hesitation. But that was just once...

Just once...

Get over yourself, Pidge. Lies got you into this mess, lies won't get you out. Admit what happened. You know the truth.

Yes... I do know. And I can keep shattering these illusions. I can vent all that violence at the mirages in my mind. It wasn't just the one time.

She told me to kiss her again, so I did.

Even thinking about it sends a shudder through me. I wish I could say it was revulsion. It is. A tiny, intellectual fragment of it is. Barely noticeable against the ecstasy, but it's there.

Oh, I kissed her again. And again. Each kiss every bit as savage as the first, scouring every trace of raspberry from her mouth. She bit her tongue—at least I'm pretty sure it was her. I guess it might have been me.

Either way, I learned her blood tastes as sweet as her lips.

I remember her nails digging into my back. Not fighting. Just holding herself up. And I'm sure it should have stopped me anyway, but those daggers of pain that shot through me were still radiating from _her_ touch. I might have moved into it. I know I didn't try to escape. Escape is for unpleasantness. This was...

Extraordinary.

The more it hurt, the more I wanted. Barbaric, isn't it? Pulling back was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life... but I forced myself, because I was _horrifying_ myself.

Only myself? She still seemed just fine with it.

How could she be so accepting? It didn't make sense then. It still doesn't, not really. But my mask was her idol. Captivated by my shadow... that was the only explanation.

I thought it was the only explanation.

What the hell do I do if it wasn't?

* * *

><p><em>I'm afraid I'll hurt her. Physically.<em>

_No offense, but I can't see that happening._

_It already did. And... she didn't even protest._

_Really now? You know, Larmina's pretty tough, Pidge._

_Don't tell me that justifies anything._

_No, but she strikes me as the type who'd like it rough._

_...This conversation just got a lot more awkward._

_It's the truth, I can't help it._

_So... uh... do I strike you as that type also?_

_Oh, so _that's_ how this came about._

_Answer the question._

_That doesn't surprise me as much as it could, no._

_Sure as hell surprised me._

* * *

><p>She's a cadet, Pidge. A <em>cadet<em>.

I might take that argument more seriously if the cadets weren't always trying to prove they're our equals. They won't accept such distinctions. If she knew I was thinking of her as just a cadet, she'd hate me.

...Hey, that's a thought... no. Whatever else happens...

I can't let this cause conflict in the team.

I don't want her to hate me.

The fact that those thoughts are equally important feels like a betrayal of the Voltron Force already. But I'm not betraying anyone! I know where my loyalties lie.

Loyalties are one thing. My heart is something else. Though really I know where that is too.

With a cadet. Why, of all people, a _cadet?_

Though in my case maybe that's just looking for excuses. She's not that much younger than me. Why can't she be? That would solve... oh, who am I kidding. All that would do is make everything a lot creepier. Good thing she's not.

Ugh.

There are other cadets. Better if they'd stick together. Better if she'd show some interest in her peers. But she doesn't.

I can keep to the background. Watching her with Daniel, waiting for her to see how much better he is for her. They look at each other so warmly, but it's only friendship. Mostly. I think he might feel something for her, and that only makes me feel worse. Would she start to return it if I weren't in the way?

I suppose she had plenty of time for that before... but I don't know if there was anything there before, either.

Now she just keeps looking at me, and there's something there that's never aimed at anyone else. Longing. Is it really me she's seeing? And there's something more... I'd call it hunger if the implications weren't so disturbing.

She cannot possibly feel the same way. The _exact_ same way.

And if she possibly can, she shouldn't.

How could I let this begin? Logic is supposed to rule everything. That's how I protect myself. Not just myself. Keep everything shut inside you and you won't endanger anyone.

When it gets out it becomes dangerous.

You're a genius, Pidge. You see it. Admit it. It's already out, it's tearing you apart, and you _will_ endanger your friends if you don't do something about it.

Yes.

Enough.

I have to talk to her... because I will not let this _nonsense_ get in the way of my mission... oh, forget it. I'll talk to her because I can't fight this battle anymore.

Because I want to hear her say my name again.

Because I'm weak.

* * *

><p><em>You can't make that choice for her.<em>

_I can make that choice for me!_

_Yeah, you really sound like you're making it for you._

_...Okay, good point._

_Look, Pidge, I'm not exactly an expert on long-term relationships, but..._

_Neither is anyone else here?_

_That too._

_Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt._

_You're gonna regret it forever if you let her slip away._

_Yeah... I think you're probably right._

_Always with the surprise. Give it a chance, dude. For your own sake._

* * *

><p>Having access to the castle's security systems is convenient sometimes. It means I can cut her off at her room.<p>

Alone.

This will be awkward enough as is. Certainly not trying it in the open.

"Larmina—"

It's as if she's been expecting me. Not a bad bet, really... she grabs my throat, yanks me close to her face, turquoise eyes piercing mine. Her breath is cool on my face, tinged with the faintest scent of mint. "So you're finally speaking to me again?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I—"

"Shut up, Pidge. Whatever you think you're saying, shut up."

Well _that_ was not what I expected.

Somehow I failed to consider rejection as a possibility. I don't know whether to call that arrogant or just ignorant. All this time I've been hiding. Avoiding. How did I expect anything else? This is Larmina. She doesn't tolerate such slights.

Nor should she...

I'm not too proud to beg. She might be too proud to accept it.

Might?

No. One rejection is enough for one day, more than enough. I'm not... I'm not going to try to draw this out any longer than it has to go. It's over. I'll find a way to accept it somehow.

Except I'm still here.

Her grip loosens, only slightly. Can she see what just shattered inside me? No. I don't care. I don't need pity! I just need her to let go of me... stop touching me. Get me out of her sight. Get her out of _my_ sight.

I can't stand this. Can't stand the pulse in her fingers pounding against my throat, can't stand the way her eyes shimmer with life in the light. Can't stand the thought of being so close to her and not... not taking what I want.

May _all_ the gods—yes, we have several of them on Balto—curse me for that thought, but that's not doing anything to get the idea out of my mind. Damn it, Larmina! Let go of me... before I do something terrible.

"Larmina, please..."

"I said shut up." Her voice is quieter now, but more forceful. "I don't want to hear excuses. We can talk _later_. Right now..." She pulls me closer, and her gaze becomes outright imperious. "Kiss me again, Pidge."

Wait.

Did she just...?

Have you ever caught fire? Have you been in that moment when your blood becomes an inferno, and it's all you can do to keep the slightest grip on yourself? I've been there twice now.

I think I could get used to it.

Keep it together, Pidge. You came here for a reason... fulfill that mission first. It's important. With some effort I pull away and slip the plastic tube out of my pocket.

She cocks her head. Suddenly uncertain. "My lip gloss?"

"You lost this."

I can't tell if the expression her face twists into is disappointment or mortification. Maybe both, if she's anything like me. And maybe she is.

"Is... is that all you...?"

"No." I draw my fingertips through the gloss, then run them over her lips. Gently. So gently. The proverbial calm before the storm. "Not at all."

Her eyes narrow, glinting wickedly. "I hope you're planning to take that stuff right back off."

Well, yes. That _was_ the idea. No need to say so.

Actions resonate so much louder and longer than words.


End file.
